


Missing Pieces

by TottyTottyTotty



Category: Red Dwarf (UK TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, Injury, M/M, Masturbation, Missing Scene, No Lube, No Plot/Plotless, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Sexual Roleplay, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:00:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27787906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TottyTottyTotty/pseuds/TottyTottyTotty
Summary: Remix of 'Underneath Your Clothes' by felineranger, the missing scenes: Before, during, and after....I made it nasty.
Relationships: Dave Lister/Arnold Rimmer
Comments: 12
Kudos: 21
Collections: Red Dwarf Fic Remix Fest 2020





	Missing Pieces

**Author's Note:**

  * For [felineranger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/felineranger/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Underneath Your Clothes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/62224) by [felineranger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/felineranger/pseuds/felineranger). 



> Special thanks to felineranger for the remix of my dress fic (‘Cuddleus Interruptus’ > 'Modesty Is A Virtue' )

Lister sat on the metal floor of the cargo hold rifling through boxes. The Posse grabbed a good number of them before the simulants had forced them to flee the derelict, but they hadn’t had a chance to discover the contents. To their disappointment, the shabby containers brimmed with junk from personnel quarters. Keepsakes with their meaning long since forgotten, used toiletries, worn books. Here and there were bits worth holding onto, but most of the haul had a date with the airlock later that day.

To Lister’s right, a great pile of useless smeg. To his left, a tidy stack of desirables. A torch, batteries, packets of biscuits, lighters, a dirty mag, three new toothbrushes, and a rusty harmonica.

Cat, Rimmer, and Kryten had left him to it, disinterested with the mundane items. Rimmer pushed to just jettison the whole lot, but if there was one thing they had an abundance of it was free time. Sorting through these lost memories gave the “last man alive” a kind of melancholy nostalgia for the species he’d lost. Upon opening each box he imagined the owner packing their belongings up neatly, not realising they wouldn’t live to see them again.

This particular box had belonged to a young woman. In her Polaroids, she looked maybe 25, maybe 30. Loads of photos of her brother too. Friends, family, unknown events. Definitely an engineer from the certificates. Her small book collection revealed a love of nature and science. Officer pips on her uniform.

And beneath that, a small red dress.

Lister lifted it out, unfurling the garment from its 3 million year grave. Kochanski always loved to wear red. He ran it along his cheek briefly, sadly, and set it aside to his right.

“Sorry, luv.” He mumbled to himself.

Deeper in the box, something furry. Curious, he dragged it out, toppling the stacks of clothing on top. A long black wig. He peeked at the fuzzy Polaroids again. She had it on in all of them.

“Bald as a cueball, eh? Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret.”

Next out of the box were lacy pants and stockings. Despite himself he stared at them a bit longer than the rest. His thumb grazed along the smooth fabric. It had been a long time since he'd seen anything like these on a real woman. A longing stirred deep inside him.

Lister bit his lip and glanced towards the door.

Yeah, alright.

He eased the buttons loose on his grubby boilersuit and slipped off his right leather glove. The green floral boxers were beginning to tent at the front. With a wispy breath he ran his palm across the bulge. Little, electrifying shivers were his reward.

Gently, he pulled himself free and wrapped the silky satin pants around his rapidly growing hard-on. His eyes shut as he began to stroke.

Red. Kochanski. Stockings. Knickers. Pussy. Lace.

He tugged faster, forgetting where he was, gasping and panting softly. Drips of precum spread across the delicate cloth as he guided it down his length and back again.

Red. Krissie. Dress. Suspenders. Arse. Tits.

Close. So close now. Lister was doubled over, working himself steadily.

 _"Smeg-!"_ He groaned, his voice brittle. At last his release washed over him. He covered the lacy undergarments in sticky surges, the overflow splattering on the cold floor.

Slowly his sense came back to him.

"What the smeg am I doing…?" Disgusted with himself, Lister used an old T-shirt to wipe away the mess. He silently apologized to the previous owner for the fate of their carefully stored wardrobe. "It really has been too long if this seemed like a good idea."

He drew a stale JMC cigarette out of the pack in his breast pocket and lit it with his last match. A deep inhale and he felt himself again. Clearer headed, he set back to his task.

Some jewelry. Makeup bag. Mirror (save that one for Cat). A jockstrap.

"Had a boyfriend too. Of course you did!" He remarked, tossing it to the right.

Socks. High heels. He leaned in closely. Very, very large high heels. He looked back at the jockstrap. Then to the wig. Then the heels.

"Smeg." He twirled the cigarette in his mouth thoughtfully. Gathering up the photos, he looked one by one. In some of these, the woman. In some, the man. They were never in the same photo together.

Lister held one of the pumps up to his dirty boot. About the same length. He sat for a moment thinking about this.

Then, he moved the red dress from the right hand pile to the left.

He _was_ partial to red.

…

Lister moaned around the deepening kiss. It tasted of lager, smoke, and lipstick. He grabbed Rimmer’s bare hips, pulling them closer. Their cocks slid along each other deliciously.

Wet, fluttery kisses marked his trail from the hologram’s lips to his ear. “I believe,” he whispered, “You promised me something, _général.”_

Rimmer shuddered as the light breath caressed sensitive skin.

“What’s that?”

The flirty scouser pulled back, looking up at his bunkmate through black mascara eyelashes. With a sloppy, lopsided smile, he said, “‘The fucking I’ve been craving.’”

Lister twisted, pressing Rimmer back into the mattress with surprising strength. He straddled him firmly, locking him in place between his stocking-covered thighs and shoved the duvet to the ground. Those dark brown eyes burned with hunger.

 _“Oui, madame.”_ Rimmer managed, shaking. He let his hands glide along smooth skin, exploring the body above him bottom to top and back again. Each curve and plane was lovely. A light tap of his erection bounced against the younger man’s arse.

Lister reached down to touch himself as Rimmer traveled his body with fiery need. He swiped his thumb across the sensitive head, twitching cock at full attention. Finding himself the object of such open-mouth, drooling lust sent an exquisite thrill through him.

“Smeg. You're gorgeous." Rimmer stared intently.

“Fuck me, Rimmer.” Lister wasn’t begging so much as demanding. _“Now.”_

Hesitation.

“I er, I don’t have… lubrication.”

Lister shook his head with impatience. “Smeg that. I’ll slick it up.”

Quickly he crawled backward, jostling the creaky old bed springs as he went. With no ceremony, his lips closed around the hardlight cock. The silver necklace he still wore swung forward, slapping the heavy faux diamond into skin dangerously close to sensitive areas.

"Necklace, necklace, necklace!" Rimmer sputtered, simultaneously dealing with intense pleasure and terror. Lister, without stopping, flopped the pendant over his shoulder safely.

Crisis averted, Rimmer exhaled a puff of relief. It took all his attention just to survive the onslaught of lips and tongue. His straining hard-on was streaked with the rose-pink lipstick. The rough texture of the stockings rubbed along his legs.

Lister's clear goal was not a blowjob, but rather to slather as much saliva on as possible. He alternated long, wet licks with deep, throaty sucks until little trails of moisture dripped down Rimmer's love spuds and into the cloth below. Rimmer was a whimpering mess. "S-stop…" His muscles tensed as he hurried to push his bunkmate off. "You're going to make me-"

The third technician’s mouth connected with his superior’s before he could finish. "We're not done yet." He murmured before stroking his tongue along Rimmer's. The hologram could feel Lister moving into position, pressing the tip against his opening. In burning desperation he clutched his lover hard, hands digging into his back.

_"Listy."_

As the head slipped in, Lister flinched and gritted his teeth.

"Are you ok? Maybe we shou-"

Lister put a finger on Rimmer's lips, making eye contact. "The fucking. I've been craving." He whispered pointedly. Rimmer could only nod.

The scouser eagerly sank himself downward hard, making them both gasp. Lister's jaw was slack and he was looking at some indeterminate point on the top of the bunk. Breathing hard he began to rock back and forth.

_"Smeggg. Smeeeggg."_

"Oh, Listy!"

"Fuck me, I wanna be fucked!"

He didn’t have to ask again. Rimmer sank his nails into the flesh of Lister’s backside, steadying it for his frantic thrusts. “My God, you’re tight.” he choked out.

They clung to each other, nipping and sucking at bare neck and shoulders. “Let me see you.” Rimmer breathed, pushing Lister upward brusquely.

Lister was soft and smooth, nowhere as podgy as Rimmer had insinuated over the years. He savored the figure with his eyes. A sizable erection bumped against his stomach, leaving small drops of precum behind. The large pendant sat among sparse, curly hair, framed between two dark nipples. It bounced with his heaving chest at each buck of Rimmer’s hips. His pale brown skin was interrupted by a deep red flush across his cheeks.

Lister beamed in delight as Rimmer worshiped him with his gaze.

A helpless groan fell from the hardlight lips. He sprang upward, embracing the smaller man and burying his face in the soft, smooth torso. They grunted and gasped together as Lister rose and fell in Rimmer’s lap.

Tightening his grip, Rimmer rolled them both over clumsily, pinning Lister beneath. They crashed into the wall as they went, tearing down a timetable and several news clippings.

 _“Yes.”_ The scouser chuckled, dizzy and pleasantly surprised. “Fuck me like your servant girl!” A bit of paper came to rest on his collarbone. It read, _‘Arnie Does it Best!’_

His laughs quickly turned to labored moans as the hardlight cock drove into him again. Nails scrabbled along Rimmer’s back. “Harder!”

Rimmer gave it his all, pumping with the pent-up force of every fantasy and desire he’d ever entertained. With a keening cry he felt himself toppling hopelessly over the edge.

Lister, sensing his partner’s emanate orgasm, pushed his hips forward. “Come for me.” He murmured, placing light kisses everywhere within reach.

Rimmer rode the sensations, his mind leaving him until he collapsed, completely spent. A tender hand ran across his cheek and lifted his chin. Mouth met mouth again, sloppy and feverish.

In a tangle of limbs, they kissed and rolled wildly. With a small surprised sound and a loud thud, they fell out of the bunk onto the discarded duvet. Rimmer whined at the pain in his back.

Lister, not missing a beat, began to stroke himself to the sight of the hologram’s sprawled, disheveled, naked body.

Red. Dress. Stockings. Cock. Necklace. Lipstick. Napoleon. Rimmer. Rimmer. _Rimmer._

Lister’s back arched and his legs went stiff. Waves of euphoria crashed into him as he coated Rimmer’s stomach and thighs in warm ropes of come.

They were both a complete wreck. Panting, aching, heads spinning, they dragged one another back into the bunk. There, they held each other face-to-face until the drink and their own exhaustion finally claimed their consciousness.

…

Lister and Rimmer sat back from the screen as the blackbox recording stopped. At first, neither said anything, trying to wrap their minds around what they’d just watched.

Rimmer broke the silence.

 _"I'll slick it up."_ He mocked in a perfect Liverpudlian accent. And again, _“The fucking I’ve been craving.”_

“Shut up, man.” Lister glanced at him sideways. His arse was still aching and sore, he was in no mood.

“At least admit it.” Rimmer chirped with glee, “It wasn’t my fault we didn’t use proper lubrication. I’m not _quite_ the rapey monster you made me out to be. Hmm? Can you at least grant me that much?”

 _“Yes.”_ Lister said with heavy exasperation. “It’s not your fault. You sure as smeg made a go of it though, didn’t you? You were a smegging animal.”

“Mmm hmm.” Rimmer agreed wistfully. He leaned into Lister’s chair, planting a sultry kiss on his lips. “I think I’m going to miss that dress.” The tattered red thing had been consigned to a garbage pod, having been rendered useless.

Lister’s cheeky, gerbilly grin started to cross his face. He pulled Rimmer closer. “Who says that was the only one?”

**Author's Note:**

> This felt like an exercise in forensic analysis of 'Underneath Your Clothes,' connecting all the dots.
> 
> It's so weird that we both wrote Lister-wearing-a-red-dress-that-gets-torn-off-by-hungry-Rimmer fics and then claimed the remixes, it was meant to be I suppose.
> 
> Believe it or not, I'm not really into cross-dressing. But Rimmer is. So. I guess I am now?
> 
> Please let me know if you see any typos or unintentional Americanisms.


End file.
